Today I took my place for zazen with a diffuse sense of trouble, but I couldn’t name my troubles.  Comfort came easily and quickly: for some reason I soon felt myself to be a part of the Tao, an expression of its creativity.  To my surprise I was able to stay in that understanding for most of the sitting.  Tibetan bowls were struck in my headphones graciously, though I cognized them only at times.  Behind them waves rolled and crashed: at first I was a part of those waters, but soon after they became the waves of human trouble, and I was a strong rock or cliff they could not disturb.  Now and then I grew more conscious and sought the nature of my troubles, but I never could discover them.  They were shapes more than emotions: diffuse but with boundaries, white and pallid, moving in my being.  They became meaningless, but they did not disperse.  They simply lost significance; I was over here, not there among them. Once again I tried to understand my end in the Tao.  It was in those moments of trying to understand that my calm was shaken.  Mostly I was able to rest without meaning and without intention.